


Fragmentation 0.3

by Eden (kurokimio)



Series: Fragmentation [3]
Category: The Matrix (Movies), The Matrix Online, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Allusions to death, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - The Matrix Fusion, Depression, Other, Science Fiction, The Matrix References, The Matrix!AU, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:00:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23531968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurokimio/pseuds/Eden
Summary: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What isThe Matrix?
Series: Fragmentation [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1692055





	Fragmentation 0.3

**Author's Note:**

> **AN:** Now it’s Yoongi’s time to shine. And that is an allusion to different things. I’ll let you decide what I’m talking about. As I stated before, all information in the universe can be found on the official [Matrix Wiki](https://matrix.fandom.com/wiki/Main_Page) so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!

Heavy grunts of pain rang out in the storage shed. The distinct sound of something large hitting something soft echoed in the small space. A sliver of light pooled in through the foggy window, illuminating the particles of dust that lingered in the air. Every so often, something wet would hit the wall or the floor. Sometimes both. 

“What’s the matter, Yoongi? Not gonna join in?”

A bat whisked through the air, coming down to land on a person’s back. They yelled out in agony, their fingers scraping across the dirt and concrete beneath them.

“Psh, whatever. You know he thinks he’s too good to get his hands dirty.”

A kick landed true, hitting the person straight in the ribs. They coughed, spittle and blood staining the floor.

“He’s not above watching, though.”

Min Yoongi’s face was as neutral as ever - giving away nothing. A cigarette was perched between his lips, the smoke billowing into his line of sight. He casually brushed at the sleeve of his school uniform, watching his fellow classmates pummel someone relentlessly with no real justification. Other than the kid was a scholarship student and didn’t come from actual money. 

Yoongi didn’t have anything against him personally. As far as he was concerned, it didn’t really have anything to do with him. But he knew that if he didn’t at least participate in _some form or fashion_ , his “friends” would open their stupid fucking mouths and tell their daddies how he didn’t “play nice” with his classmates. These entitled punks were the future of the world - deciding how and when and who would climb up in the ranks in society.

Money talked and the circles that existed within high society were suffocatingly small.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, standing from his chair. He crushed the ember of the cigarette out against the wall before flicking it off to the side. “I’m leaving.”

The three boys stopped their assault on the freshman, eyeballing Yoongi curiously. Curtis, the one who initiated this little event in the first place, cracked his neck as he turned to face him fully. The smirk on his face practically dripped “I am a pompous asshole”. 

“Don’t have the stomach for it, Yoon?”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned down to pick up his school bag. “No, I just don’t have time to play your bullshit games today.” Yoongi adjusted his jacket sleeve so he could look at his watch. “I have piano lessons in half an hour.”

He bumped his shoulder against Curtis’s chest, silently telling him he needed to get out of his way. The taller man did, stepping to the side so Yoongi could get to the door. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he pushed against it and exited the storage shed. The beating continued and he didn’t look back.

“Young Master,” a voice called out to him.

Yoongi looked up, noticing his family’s butler, Roland, as he stood beside the large black luxury car parked by the side street. He sighed, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes and then stepping toward the vehicle. Roland opened the door for him and without a single glance of acknowledgement, he flopped into the soft leather cushions of the backseat. The passenger side door opened and Roland entered, their driver pulling the car out to head for Yoongi’s next destination.

“Did you have a good day today, Young Master Yoongi?”

He shrugged, propping his elbow along the door to stare out of the window. “It’s whatever,” he replied nonchalantly, “same stupid boring shit day after day. What’s good about any of it?”

Roland cleared his throat some. “Tomorrow is always another day, Young Master.”

“Yes, Roland.” Yoongi closed his eyes. “Yes it is.”

* * *

Piano lessons went as they always did. Even when he was irritated, Yoongi always found a way to focus on the music. He didn’t even need to look at the sheet music anymore. He’d memorized everything in his practice books and took to adding his own variations to the music. Classic. Modern. None of it mattered. So long as he could let his body and mind disappear among the keys of ebony and ivory, then that was all he cared about. All he could _will_ himself to care about.

As soon as the hour was over, Yoongi was forced to leave his small sanctuary. He bid his piano teacher farewell as Roland ushered him back out to the car. The next stop was Cram School. The moment of peace, his mental safe haven, was pulled from him as he was thrust into another suffocating atmosphere.

Once again, he was surrounded by the collective Elite - all born and bred for a purpose seemingly “greater” than themselves. A purpose that was determined before their conception; a purpose that wasn’t of their choosing.

It never was.

The real question was why? Why weren’t they able to choose? Who decided that choice was an illusion? 

The professor droned on and on. Yoongi zoned out about halfway through the lecture, his wrist moving back and forth - scribbling notes that had nothing to do with the lesson. Honestly, he wanted to ditch cram school and head to a nearby arcade where he could waste hours mindlessly playing video games with random strangers. At least in that kind of atmosphere, he didn’t have to worry about being judged. Yoongi had no need for a plastic smile and false compliments. He could just be an ordinary teenager and maybe, just maybe, he would have been able to make a friend.

But that was a reality that was outside of the realm of possibility for him. Min Yoongi was the heir of a multi-million dollar corporation. Friendship? Purpose? Free of judgment?

That life was far outside of his reach.

“Mister Min.”

Yoongi blinked, his vision focusing back on his notebook. He slowly lifted his head up to see that his teacher and fellow classmates were all eyeballing him. Dropping his pencil, he straightened his posture, feeling the heaviness of their gazes weighing his chest down. 

“Yes?”

“I asked if you would come up and solve this equation.” His teacher, Mr. Jameson, frowned as he set the dry erase marker down. “Are you feeling alright?”

There was a soft pounding at the back of his head, increasing the pressure behind his eyes. Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to shake off the pain. But it steadily increased. He groaned, staggering to his feet. 

“Actually, I think I need to go,” he murmured. 

He reached down and scooped up his school bag, disregarding his notebook and pencil box that was still on his desk. A hand fell on his shoulder and Yoongi flung his arm out, knocking the person back roughly. 

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” His voice boomed through the room, silencing almost everything. For a split second, Yoongi thought he saw the lights flickering a shade of green. “...don’t put your hands on me.”

No one made a move to go after him. He preferred it that way. The pounding at the back of his head was increasing, followed by a distinct ringing sound bouncing around in his ear canals. Beads of sweat bubbled around his temples and dripped from the end of his nose. He ignored the stares of other students and faculty members of the Cram School as he stumbled his way toward the front entrance.

Rain fell in cascading waves, washing over Yoongi’s shoulders and soaking him through almost instantly. His eyes tried to spot where Roland was, but the black sedan was lost among so many other similarly styled vehicles in the area. As he turned to walk down the street, he felt his chest slam into someone. Stumbling back, Yoongi lost his footing and fell to the concrete, his bag slipping from his fingers. 

Looking up through the rain, he saw three men clad in suits. Even in the dark, they wore sunglasses. He found it a little bizarre, but kept his comments to himself. Yoongi saw all three men crane their necks to look down at him simultaneously. They made no motion to help him back to his feet and he, in turn, didn’t move from the ground. There was something immensely foreboding about their presence, causing goosebumps to pepper out across the back of his neck.

“Young Master!”

Yoongi heard Roland’s voice, but he remained focused on the three men in front of him. They never took their eyes off of him and he did the same. A cold feeling snaked up his chest, freezing the inside of his lungs and throat. He couldn’t speak. He could barely breathe. The pounding in his head intensified, his vision swimming momentarily.

Everything came into sharp focus when he felt his body being yanked up violently. His ears quit ringing and he felt Roland clinging to him protectively. Yoongi’s feet moved at his butler’s insistence, ushering him to where the car was. But just before they were out of earshot, he heard one of the men speak.

“See you again, Mr. Min.”

Roland quickly opened the door and Yoongi hopped inside, his breathing coming in swift intervals. He felt his butler slide into the seat beside him, ordering the driver to make haste. As he did so, he rubbed soothing circles on Yoongi’s back. It did little to quell the raging thunder of his own heartbeat, but at least he could hear the water hitting the window from how fast they were driving in the storm. 

“Young Master.” 

The sound of Roland’s deep voice brought him out of whatever trance Yoongi was placed under. Blinking rapidly, he turned to look at the man that was with him since he was a child. The look on Roland’s face was different; an expression that he’d never seen before. Or was it that he simply hadn’t paid any attention until now?

It was kindness and empathy. Like he, in that moment, could truly understand what Yoongi was feeling.

“R-Roland,” he managed to stammer, his hands reaching out to grasp the sleeves of Roland’s jacket, “w-what is happening?” He coughed. “Who were those guys?”

“Bad men.” Roland’s brows furrowed. “ _Very_ bad men.”

“How do you know that?”

“That isn’t as important as what I’m about to tell you next.” He reached behind him, pressing a button on the back panel to raise the divider between the backseat and driver’s cabin. “Young Master, I’m afraid that you’ve been pinged.”

Yoongi felt a lump forming in his throat. “What?” His grip tightened on Roland’s arms. “What the hell does that even mean?!”

“Now that you’re on their radar, they will begin pursuing you. They want to make sure that you won’t be able to discover the truth.”

“What _truth_ , Roland?!” Yoongi felt the adrenaline shredding through his veins. “You’re not making any sense!”

“I’m sorry, Young Master, but I don’t have a lot of time to explain everything in detail. I can only help show you the way.” Roland gently urged Yoongi to release his arms so that he could move them. He placed his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders. “The rest is up to you.”

“Roland…”

Suddenly, Roland reached down below the seat. When he pulled his hand back, he was holding an automatic hand pistol. What calm settled over Yoongi’s heart was instantly destroyed. Roland pressed the button on the back panel, lowering the divider between both sections of the vehicle. 

“Wait, Roland...what are you doing?!”

The butler, the man who’d taken care of him for most of his life, smiled as he aimed the gun at the back of the driver’s head.

“Goodbye, my Young Master.”

He wasn’t fast enough to see what was about to happen. Even if he had, there was no way that Yoongi would have been prepared. The ear splitting crack of the gun firing off made him scream as blood sprayed across the windshield. His hearing was muffled and the ringing returned. Covering his ears was pointless, but he did it anyway.

Yoongi’s center of gravity shifted drastically as the car swerved. Tears streamed down his face as he saw Roland aiming the gun to his own head. The sound that erupted from his body was inhuman, like that of a beast crawling out from the depths of Hell itself. The second gunshot caused a flash of light to flare up in the small space as chunks of meat and bone exploded through the curtain of blood spray. 

There wasn’t enough time for him to mourn. Everything shifted into darkness as strings of green numbers and letters took on the shapes of the vehicle, the driver, and Roland. The terror scratching over his entire body seemed to cease. For a few brief seconds, Yoongi forgot about the two corpses in his presence and how the vehicle was out of control. Reaching a hand out, he tried to touch the strings of code.

The shrill sound of a semi-truck’s horn brought him back to reality. As he turned his head, he was blinded by a set of headlights. They blared on continuously, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. It was inevitable. 

Yoongi smiled seconds before impact.

_“Welcome to the Real World.”_


End file.
